


Care Package

by caliecat



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Flash Fic, Food, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:11:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caliecat/pseuds/caliecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Danny needs a little taste of home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Care Package

Since they became partners, Steve's seen Danny get plenty of care packages from his family in New Jersey, filled with every kind of food under the sun: Mason jars of homemade spaghetti sauce, from tomatoes grown in his grandmother's garden; cans of eggplant caponata and olive condite; burlap sacks of spicy Taylor ham; boxes of sticky-sweet salt water taffy from the Shore.

And for the holidays, tins of his mother's fluffy panettone and crispy pizzelles and something else Steve doesn't know the name for, crunchy little biscuits rolled in sesame seeds that are so incredibly good he tried to snatch the entire container from Danny's desk one day in the genesis of the epic _cookiegate_ fiasco, which Danny still tosses in his face once in a while when they fight.

Given time, he even expects Danny to master the challenge of shipping a fried sandwich across the Pacific before it becomes completely inedible.

"That's how I stay connected," Danny once explained after Steve teased him for behaving like a lonely freshman at college. "It's like a taste of home for me, so lay off, okay?"

But when Steve swings by the office early one Saturday morning to retrieve a forgotten file, he finds something completely unexpected.

Danny's at the table in the room they use for office supplies, stuffing tissue paper into a large box, surrounded by scissors and tape and a most interesting collection. "What are you doing there, bud?" Steve asks from the doorway and is immensely pleased when Danny flinches and whirls to face him, guilt written all over the skittish eyes and flailing arms.

"Nothing. Just getting this ready to ship to my mom. For her birthday. I mean I got her a gift and I didn't have any tape or boxes at the apartment, so...." He spreads his hands wide, his expression an odd mix of belligerent and beseeching.

Which only fuels Steve's curiosity. He nods his head toward the table as Danny shifts to block his view. "A gift. That's nice. So what did you get her?"

"Just, some stuff. Why are you here anyway? Shouldn't you be training for a marathon or planning an armed attack somewhere?"

Steve laughs at the pathetic effort at misdirection, easily shoves Danny aside and picks up a small, cellophane-wrapped package. "Li Hing powder? From Chinatown?" He raises one eyebrow and watches, amused, as Danny opens and closes his mouth before he shrugs in resignation and lifts his chin, ready to take whatever Steve throws at him.

"She thought it might be fun to cook with?"

"Uh huh. And this?" He waves the next one in Danny's face. "Sun-dried tomatoes from Waimea? I thought your Jersey tomatoes were the best in the world, so amazing and perfect and good that—"

"These are good too. Kind of sweet, actually. So sue me." Danny rolls his shoulders, relaxing now and trying to hide his own smile as Steve picks through the other gifts.

Packets of Hawaiian smoked sea salt and Kona coffee. Jars of lavender jelly from Maui and organic honey from the Big Island. Cans of macadamia nuts. A box of.... "Chocolate-covered pineapple?" he asks with genuine surprise.

Danny grins back. "What can I say, she has demented taste. So are you just going to stand there and stare or are you helping?"

Steve's seen a lot of care packages fly from Newark to Honolulu. But he's never seen one sent in the other direction. And that's got to mean _something_.

So he steps aside to let Danny slide over to the table again, presses against his shoulder and smiles to himself as they work side-by-side, filling the box with food and memories and even, _finally_ , after all of these months, a little taste of home.


End file.
